She's Not a Girl Who Nurses Much
by Romen
Summary: When Jude returns, Lucy divulges something that puts their love to the test. Could a case of the cold warm up the romance between them? Two-shot. Jucy, Lucy/Jude, whatever you want to call it.


A/N: While writing this, I couldn't help but feel I didn't nail the characters completely, but I enjoyed writing it, and I hope that you enjoy reading it. Please let me know what you think! This is intended to a two-shot, maybe a three-shot.

Take care!

Disclaimer: They aren't mine.

Chapter One

"I'll pay you back as soon as I can, Max."

"No worries; what else are friends for?"

Jude slid into the passenger seat of the taxi, which smelled faintly of nicotine and body odor. He rolled the window down.

"To be honest, that bail was a little high, considering we hadn't done anything wrong," Max grumbled, checking the review mirror before he began to pull out into the street.

Apparently, the chief of police had been contacted during the gang's "musical escapade", as it would be called in the papers, and was furious that his officers hadn't already escorted the "felons" off. The police claimed that the "gang" had resisted, and the chief decided that validated an arrest. In reality he just wanted to make a statement to the peace-and-love community.

So Jude spent his first night back in the States in a jail cell with Prudence. JoJo, Sadie, and Max were able to post their own bail. Jude had paced for hours on end, biting his nails. He remembered what happened the last time he'd been in trouble with law. Even though he'd immigrated legally this time, he couldn't help but be anxious lest the same results would occur.

The next morning, Rita came by and helped Prudence meet the bail amount. Jude was now left on his own, and more stressed than ever. Around noon an officer came and escorted him from the cell. Apparently, Max had scrapped up enough to help Jude make his bail. Now they were safe and sound in the taxi, rolling down the streets of New York and headed to what hopefully was eternal bliss.

"So…Is Lucy home?" Jude asked as casually as possible.

"She was when I left. She sleeps in late these days."

"Ah." He scratched his neck. "Did she say anything about me?"

"I'm not sure if I should tell you that, man," Max mumbled vaguely. "I mean, she's my sister…"

"It's cool. But I think I'm gonna walk the rest of the way."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I kinda want to stretch my legs after being cramped up in that cell."

"I bet. Take care of yourself, wouldn't want to have to bust you out again."

Indeed, it did feel good to use his legs. He'd forgotten how much he'd missed the sound of the city – conversations in languages he couldn't identify, something crashing, someone shouting, someone laughing. It made him itch to get back to his art again.

The powerful aroma of orchids hit him in the face like a ton of bricks. He was passing by a flower shop with so many plants in the window that it looked like a tropical jungle trapped inside of a glass case. He considered buying some for Lucy – what girl didn't like flowers? He frowned, pausing in front of the doorway. What if she thought it was too cliché? But Jude loved her, and was it so wrong for him to buy something for the girl he loved? He nodded to himself and stepped through the door with determination.

Five minutes later he emerged holding a bouquet of assorted wildflowers tied together with a white ribbon. He had decided that the stereotypical roses and other commercial flowers didn't suit Lucy in the least. She would enjoy this arrangement much more.

It didn't take him long to reach the apartment. It was the same one they had shared all those years ago. When Jude had been deported, Lucy had stayed on and Max shared it with her upon his return from the war. Now that Jude was back, he and Max assumed it was only sensible that he join them.

Jude went inside and began the trek up the stairs. When he reached the entrance to their room, his heart was pounding from a combination of nerves and physical exertion. One thing he hadn't missed was that stairwell. He rang the doorbell and ran a hand through his hair, surprised to feel how greasy it was. Damn his luck. Hopefully he could evade talking to Lucy long enough to get a shower.

He waited for what felt like ages; no one answered the door. He rang again. Maybe Lucy wasn't home after all. He turned the doorknob, checking to see if it was locked. The door opened with a squeal of protest from the hinges. "Hello?" he called, stepping into the kitchen tentatively.

It was just as he had left it. The TV that Paco had brought still sat on end table; Jude's random drawings adorned the walls. He was surprised to see them still there. He'd expected Lucy would have covered them up by now.

A bowl of fruit sat on the table. Jude suddenly realized how ravenous he was and snatched an apple, taking a hearty bite. He was heading to Max's room to change when he tripped over a new addition in the hallway; a shag rug in an obnoxious shade of lime green, which Max had to have picked out just to get on Lucy's nerves.

"Max? Is that you?" a female voice called from the bedroom that Jude and Lucy had shared.

His stomach did a flip. It was Lucy's voice. He still recognized it, even though he hadn't heard it in he didn't want to know how long. He could feel his heart pounding. It was like he was going to ask his first crush to go the movies. He hadn't felt this nervous over a girl in years, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He took a deep breath, tightened his grip around the bouquet, and stepped into the bedroom.

"No, it's me," he answered, surprised at the confidence in his tone.

"Jude!" Lucy sprang from the bed, and before he could react her arms were around him like a vice. "It's so good to see you!"

"Y-You too," he wheezed, his free hand running through her hair instinctively.

Lucy leaned back and opened her mouth to say something. Instead, her face contorted and she let out a hearty sneeze.

Her cheeks gleamed like two cherries. "I'm so sorry…"

"Don't worry about it." He frowned; her voice sounded odd. "Are you all right?"

"I think I have a cold or something," she explained. "It's nothing much."

"You should get back in bed."

"No, I'm fine. Would you like something to eat or drink or –" Another sneeze interrupted her. She put a hand to her forehead and moaned softly.

"Lucy, you're going back to bed."

"It's just a little headache…"

"You need rest," he insisted, putting his hands on her shoulders and guiding her over to the mattress. "Lay down. I'll be right back."

Jude headed into the kitchen and began rummaging around the cabinets. After about ten minutes or so he returned to the bedroom with a steaming mug in one hand and the flowers in the other.

He gave her the mug. "This will help; it's just tea with honey. Be careful, it's still a little hot."

"Thank you."Lucy took a sip obediently, and set the mug on the nightstand. She pointed at the bouquet. "What are those?"

Jude grinned sheepishly and handed them over. "I just thought you might like some flowers, is all."

"Aw Jude, that's so sweet of you! I wish I could smell them." She giggled. "But thank you very much."

"Welcome." He crossed his arms awkwardly, wondering if he should give into temptation and sit down on the bed beside her. Lucy saved him the trouble by patting the mattress and scooting over to make more room for him. He followed her suggestion with alacrity.

"So why did you decide to come back to New York?" she asked after a moment's silence.

"Max didn't tell you? I just missed the place and the….people."

"Well I'm glad you decided to come back."

"Me too." He paused as she reached for a kleenex, soaking in the relief that came with being next to her. Even with puffy eyes and a beet red nose, she looked as beautiful as he remembered her to be.

"Oh damn," she exclaimed suddenly, sitting straight up. "I have that rally tonight…"

"I figured you were still fighting for the cause," Jude thought aloud, but not with any of the sarcasm his voice would have held in the past.

"Yeah, more than ever, especially since I've seen what it has done to Max." She hesitated, twisting a corner of the sheet. "He has a lot of nightmares, and he drinks a lot more than he used to. I worry about him, Jude. But it will be better now that you're back. He's been too lonely."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said sincerely. "I was so glad to hear from him, when he wrote to me."

"Yeah…I really need to start getting ready for that rally…"

"Why not rest a bit? I just got here."

"Is the war resting?" she asked in exasperation, slinging her legs over the side of the bed. She made it about halfway across the room before she began to sway, and she would have fallen over completely had Jude not put an arm around her waist to support her.

"You can't even walk," he scolded, shaking his head in amusement. "You're going back in bed."

"The rally," she protested weakly.

"Will wait," Jude assured her.

He led her back to the bed and tucked her in. "What am I, a six year old?" she teased.

"You're as stubborn as one."

A deep silence followed. Jude could hear a woman jabbering in Punjabi on the floor below them, and the sounds of pissed off drivers honking and slamming on their breaks in the street. He could also hear the rhythmic whisper of Lucy's breathing, and he realized how much he had missed that sound. It meant she existed, she was alive, and he was living with her.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

"What do you mean?" she inquired sleepily.

"When I came in and…made a scene…Do you remember?"

"Yes, but Jude –"

"I wasn't thinking straight. I missed you, and I was stupid, and I was..." He paused, swallowing his pride. "I was…jealous of _him_, because he could do so much about what you cared about. I couldn't do anything about the war, I was as helpless as you were. I never meant to hurt you Luce, and I don't blame you for leaving."

"Jude…" Her voice was surprisingly tender. "I don't blame you at all. I overreacted too. You were right about Paco, in the end, and I wouldn't listen to you. I was just so frustrated about the war and Max and all the shit the world is in, and I took it out on you. I just had to get away. You understand that, right?"

"Yeah, completely." Damnit, he was going to cry. He paced over to the dresser, pretending to play with the various trinkets on its surface while he got a hold of himself. When had he become so sappy? He tried to remember the cool, calculating playboy that he'd been before he met her, but the only memory he could conjure was of sitting in the backseat of Max's old convertible as she made cynical remarks about Thanksgiving.

"And I made a mistake too." Now her voice sounded thick, and it wasn't just from her cold. "I should have given you a chance to talk to me, but I just lit out…and I'm so sorry for that Jude."

"I don't blame you. I was such a bastard."

"Like I was any better?"

He turned around. "Of course you were."

She stared at him, her blue eyes twisted with pain and something remarkably like guilt.

"What is it? Lucy, what's wrong?" he repeated when she remained silent.

"Jude, when I left you," she began, her index finger pressing aimlessly against her palm, "I moved in with Paco."

It hit him like a ton of bricks. He stared back at her, their eyes locked in a gaze of anger and remorse. It took him a while to find his voice.

"Did you sleep with him?"

She averted her eyes and nodded slowly, deliberately, like her head was being weighted down.

"I'm sorry, Jude."

Sorry? Does sorry cover something like that? He could no longer see the guilt ridden girl sitting in the bed, but only Paco and Lucy smashed together like two lumps of clay. He felt sick.

"How long had you two been together?" he managed to ask, fixing his gaze on a sundress that Lucy had discarded on the floor.

"Not until you left."

"You can tell me the truth, Lucy, it doesn't matter anymore."

"It does matter, Jude," she said forcefully, a tear slipping down her pale cheek. "I wouldn't lie to you – I never have."

"Yeah, you just shag some bloke behind my back," he snapped, wishing he had punched Paco harder when he'd had the chance. "You two still riding the hobby horse, is that it?"

"Paco died in the explosion, Jude."

She burst into wracking sobs. Jude was taken aback. He remembered reading that article, but he had never once considered Paco to be one of the casualties. His only worries had been for Lucy. Terror had torn through him when he read that headline, so violently he'd wanted to dash himself against the rocky bluffs along the coastline. He'd written Max, checking the mail every day, reading every newspaper he could his hands on, and when the letter finally did arrive saying Lucy was safe he'd giggled hysterically for an hour straight just from relief. He loved Lucy; he couldn't imagine living without knowing she was living too. But Lucy had lost someone that day, someone that she must have loved just as dearly.

"Luce, I'm so sorry," he gushed, crossing over to her and kneeling on the floor. He enclosed her with his arms and pulled her to his chest. "I'm sorry, I- I wish I could do something."

"It's not your fault," she blubbered, lifting her head and rubbing at her eyes furiously. "It just feels like it happened such a short time ago."

"Were you there when it happened?"

"No, I was with Max."

_He has a good mind…_ He'd been such a fool. He'd had suspicions, but that's all they were; suspicions. And mostly they had been fears that she would fall for Paco, not that she _had_ fallen for Paco. He was tempted to hurt her as much as she had hurt him by making something up about an ex-girlfriend in Liverpool, but he loved her too much for that pettiness. Instead he brushed a loose strand of hair away from her eyes and said, "At least you were safe."

"I was only with him once, Jude," she explained, her eyes swimming anxiously, "just one night, nothing went on between us while you and I were still together."

_While you and I were. _She must cherish that one night, Jude reflected, and regretted sticking around with him so long. The truth hurt, but if Jude was good at one thing it was rolling with the punches and taking things straight.

"You don't have to make excuses Lucy, I understand," he interrupted softly.

"You do?"

"Yeah, and I don't blame you for anything." He was starting to choke up again. He shoved his hands into his pockets and balled them into fists. "I'll stay out of your way from now on, I promise."

She turned a deeper shade of pale. "Jude, what do you –"

"Lucy, it's all right. I understand. I'll see you around, I guess. Feel better."

He stood and gave her a peck on the cheek, then hurried from the room like death was on his trail. The stairwell seemed narrower and darker than when he had ascended full of hope and new beginnings. Now it was a reminder of his loneliness.

He passed Max on his way out the door. "Hey, Jude, where you going?"

"I'm sorry Max, I can't stay here," he said in a surprisingly steady voice. "I'll give you a call later, all right?"

Max caught his friend's arm, concerned. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you about it later, I just got to go right now."

"Where?"

"I don't know, I'll figure it out."

"Are you coming back?"

"That's probably not the best idea. I'll bunk down with Prudence or somebody. I'll be fine."

"Do you want a ride?"

"I can walk."

"Well, call me later and I'll drop off your luggage."

Jude nodded and ambled down the street, wishing he could return to the past.


End file.
